


Autumn Leaves are Falling

by VoidofRoses



Series: Domesticated Bliss [5]
Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Good Parent Joxaren | The Joxter, M/M, Snusmumriken | Snufkin Has Paws and a Tail, background Mamma/Pappa/Joxter, genderfluid snufkin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-27 13:16:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19013659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoidofRoses/pseuds/VoidofRoses
Summary: Anniversaries had never been a thing until Snufkin met Moomin.or, Snufkin experiences existential dread as winter approaches once more





	Autumn Leaves are Falling

**Author's Note:**

> welp here’s another part to the series. notice I’ve been going through the seasons? :)

Anniversaries had never been a thing until Snufkin met Moomin.

The passing of time meant nothing to someone who didn’t bother to keep watch or had no need to, but after that pivotal point in time, Snufkin found himself counting seasons, both up to winter and when he would be heading back to Moominvalley. The easiest way was paying attention to the habits of the weather and the wild creeps, when they had their young in spring or started to stockpile for winter.

When the air started to chill in Moominvalley, the winds just that little bit colder, the leaves turning orange and brown and red and a gorgeous array of colours. That was when Snufkin began planning his annual trip south. When Moomin began moving some things around and back to his old bedroom in Moominhouse, so he would be able to hibernate in safety, the both of them knew that it wouldn’t be long.

Snufkin had hidden it in his pack since last winter, tucked away in a corner of their bedroom collecting dust over the seasons. He rummaged around it now, deep in packing mode, placing things inside and outside his pack with a hum in his throat as his lips puffed around his pipe, smoke coming from the corner of his mouth. For a moment, his hand stilled when he cupped his fingers around something unfamiliar, withdrawing it and holding the palm of his paw open to examine the object.

“I’d forgotten,” he said to himself as he rubbed his chin with his free hand, running his thumb along the gemstone’s smooth surface and then along the band. The merchant selling them had weaved some fictitious tale about them, Snufkin had known, but he couldn’t help but think about how Moomintroll would be so enthralled and enchanted. He pocketed it into his pants and stood from searching through his rucksack, taking hold of his pipe to exhale smoke as he left the bedroom.

Moomintroll was busy helping out at Moominhouse, so the cottage was empty except for Snufkin himself. The stairs creaked underneath his boots as he walked downstairs, looking at some of the photos that Moomin had insisted on hanging on the walls. Pictures of them from various angles, ones with Snorkmaiden and the others, before finally he came to the one at the bottom, of him and Moomin sitting on the hill looking over the sea, their tails curled together. The photo that had been taken by Little My without their knowledge as some kind of blackmail when they hadn’t told everyone about their relationship but Moomintroll had liked it far too much.

Snufkin lifted a paw to rub it against his suddenly tight chest, the sudden feeling of existential dread creeping up on him as he slipped his pipe back between his lips. Turning, he nearly bumped into who was standing behind him and jumped back, tail spiking up behind him before he let out a breath and looked, deadpanned, at his father. “Don’t you knock?”

“Don’t need to.” The Joxter grinned at him as he let out a puff of his own pipe smoke, blowing it into the air before continuing. “Your house was unlocked.” Then again he’d knocked several times before realising, but he didn’t say so. The ageing mumrik raised a grey eyebrow at his son as he huffed and walked around him, heading to the kitchen. “Did I catch you in the middle of something?”

“If you must know I’m packing.”

“Ah.” Of course he had, he knew that. He must have disturbed Snufkin something decent if he was scowling at him. They had their differences but as far as he was aware, their familial relationship hadn’t changed much. He took a seat at the kitchen table, inviting himself as he watched his son stand on his tip toes to reach the top cupboards.

“Is there a reason you’re here?” Snufkin sounded less huffy now, his tail swishing behind him as he grunted in annoyance and pulled an old soup pot down, cast iron and good enough for camping with. He ran his paw through it to collect up the dust that had gathered, blowing at the rest and then slipping it under the sink.

“Yes.” The Joxter cleared his throat and glanced away as his son turned the tap on, paw to his pipe and withdrawing it from his mouth, the smell of catnip permeating in the air. “I came to ask for your permission.”

Snufkin’s tail dropped a little before it flicked back and he heard him snort. “I’ve never known Joxters to ask for permission for something before,” he said, taking hold of his own pipe and resting it against the bench as he started cleaning his camping pot. “Must be big.”

“Well, since you and Moomin are married I figured it was.” The mumrik sat forward in his chair, uncrossing his leg and draping his arms on his legs as he cleared his throat. “Moomin - _my_ Moomin that is.” That was certainly an emphasis on the word.

“Moominpappa?”

“Moominpappa,” the Joxter corrected himself, closing his eyes. “Decided it was time we stopped dancing around each other.”

Snufkin’s hands slipped in the pot as he heard that and his tail straightened in alarm, turning his head to look over his shoulder before half of his body followed suit, his paws collecting on the bench. “What?” he croaked out, eyebrows raised.

“He kissed me.” The Joxter closed his eyes.

“In front of Moominmamma?”

“Indeed.”

“How’d she take it?”

“It seemed like she was the one who gave him the idea.”

“I see.” Snufkin turned his attention back to the pot, paws scrubbing the bottom with a bit of force. “And why are you asking me for permission?”

“I figured it might be...well...weird for you.” The Joxter lifted his pipe back to his mouth, looking thoughtful all of a sudden. “Your old man getting together with your husband’s old man and lady.”

He sighed out a bit in exasperation, his shoulders straightening as he reached for his pipe to take a puff, soap bubbles collecting on the lacquered wood. “It’s none of my business who you conduct your...business with,” he said simply, relaying words that the Joxter had once said to him when he’d told him how he felt about his gender. “Is mother okay with it?”

“You know how Mymble is,” his father replied, his fingers splaying together. “She has no qualms about who lays with who, let alone old lovers and friends.”

“Then what’s the big deal?”

The Joxter paused again, this time getting up from his chair and moving over to the bench to lean against it so he was in Snufkin’s sight out the corner of his eye. “I’m getting old, Snufkin,” he finally said, leaning with his back to the bench and staring up at the ceiling of the kitchen. “Too old to keep roaming around, no matter how much my heart yearns for the wild. Moominpappa and mamma offered their bed to me this winter, and I’m considering staying.”

Snufkin’s hands stilled in the water once more, his lips tightening around his pipe.

“You shouldn’t let time get away from you.” The Joxter reached to pat his shoulder before he moved away from the bench, his footsteps leaving the kitchen. The front door swung open with a creak of its hinges, which Snufkin made a mental note to fix before he left, before he was gone, leaving his son with a lot to think about.

\---

“Do you have everything?”

Moomintroll helped Snufkin slide his pack onto his back and shoulders, brow knit together with a bit of worry. He adjusted the straps for him, his tail swaying behind him as he looked at his husband when he didn’t answer him. It was now the day of hibernation, their anniversary, and Snufkin was still mulling over what the Joxter had said to him a week ago. “Snufkin?”

He snapped his head up when Moomintroll said his name, a slight smile crossing his lips but not reaching his eyes. “Sorry, dove, you were saying?”

Moomin huffed a little before repeating himself, taking off his apron. “You have everything? Jam? Fresh water? Bread? Tent?”

“I have,” he said, looking at his husband and his gaze warming over. The object in his pocket felt heavy. “You have everything at Moominhouse?”

“Yep. I even have your pillow to keep me company.” Moomintroll’s eyes gleamed with a bit of mischief.

“I hope it doesn’t replace me then,” he teased, only to earn a gasp.

“I would never!” Moomin smiled at him and wrapped his arms around the mumrik, nudging their noses together in a kiss. “Besides, I prefer the real thing.”

Snufkin tilted his head to return the kiss with a mumrik one, pressing his mouth to the troll’s with well practiced ease. “The sooner you get to sleep the sooner I’ll be back,” he promised, then pulled back and reached for his pocket. “I have something for you.” Moomintroll’s ears perked at that. “I bought it at a vendor in the south last winter, but I wanted to wait until now to give it to you.”

Moomintroll’s eyes widened as he saw Snufkin pull out a ring, with a gemstone a brilliant blue hue as the centrepiece and the metal in knots. “It’s beautiful!”

”The vendor said the stone means hope and faith,” he said, turning it around in his fingers. “And it was favoured by fae folk in ancient times as a divination tool.” Snufkin looked at his husband, giving him a glance that told him plainly he didn’t believe in it, and Moomintroll knew that. Snufkin didn’t believe in nothing he couldn’t see with his own two eyes. “I made sure it was big enough for your tail and...well...I thought you could wear it over winter so your tail doesn’t get tangled in your handfasting ribbon.”

“Snufkin.” Moomintroll beamed at him as he murmured his name, squeezing the paw in his hand as he turned around, flicking his tail up eagerly. “Put it on there then, I want to see what it looks like.” Snufkin nodded and took gentle hold of his tail, smoothing out the white tuft at the end so that he could fold it into the ring and no fur would get caught. It moved until a third of the way down the beginning of it before it was stopped by the thicker winter fur beginning to form there, and Moomin took hold of his tail when Snufkin let go so that he could look at it. Turning back around, he threw his arms around his husband, hugging him. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“Me too, dove.” Snufkin buried his face in the fur at Moomin’s shoulder, inhaling his scent that smelled of raspberries and sugar, woodsmoke from the fireplace. “Like I said, the sooner you hibernate, the sooner I come back.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll miss you any less.” Moomintroll let his hug linger before he felt his husband stiffen a little and then he let go, touch running down Snufkin’s arms before the mumrik kissed his snout and pulled back and away. Snufkin ignored his heart clenching in his chest as he heard Moomin call to him as he walked away, leaves crunching under his boots as he walked the tired, worm path that led from Moominvalley.

From home.

**Author's Note:**

> like always, you can hit me up at @genderfluidsnufkin on tumblr :)


End file.
